


Services Rendered

by cat_77



Series: Flufftober 2018 [19]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Magnus needs a drink, Protective Alec Lightwood, Protective Clary Fray, Protective Isabelle Lightwood, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Spoilers For Episode: s02e20 Beside Still Water, Valentine’s A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 15:17:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16349156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_77/pseuds/cat_77
Summary: An encounter with another memory demon brings a few matters to light.  Primarily that Valentine was an ass and the others have a few things to say about that.





	Services Rendered

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt of “past.”
> 
> * * *

“Any memory this time?” Jace verified, uncertain.

Magnus both shrugged and nodded. It wasn’t a particularly picky demon. “It likes the more traumatic ones; thinks it’s helping to make someone face it and prove to themselves that they made it to the other side.”

“A demon therapist?” Clary scoffed. The rough swirl of a form made a noise between a grunt and a growl and she quickly assured it, “No offense, I just hadn’t seen anything like you before.”

Magnus knew it wasn’t actually offended, that was simply the way it communicated. He translated for it and explained, “Not all demons are fire and brimstone. Some like humanity and have tried to find ways that are beneficial to both.” At her nod, he felt the need to add, “Also, it keeps them alive longer not to piss you lot off.”

This time the rumble sounded almost amused.

It was a simple transaction, really. A handful of old memories for intel on a far more deadly source. It didn’t even consume the memories fully or rip them away permanently, in truth Magnus thought it just liked the entertainment factor along with the potential to help. “Whatever first comes to mind is fine,” he assured him.

Jace closed his eyes and swayed slightly as the images were lifted from his mind. He opened them again, and them opened them far wider when he realized what he had chosen was played out for all to see. Magnus winced as he might have forgotten to mention that part. He offered a look of apology and earned a less than pleased glare in return. Like all Shadowhunters though, Jace just soldiered on and made sure the circle was not broken.

Before them, hovered in the mist, was a blond boy of maybe nine or so. He was slightly small but looked well enough save for a handful of scratches and bruises that could easily be attributed to youth. 

A figure towered over him, face shrouded but voice crystal clear as it ranted, “You will never be the killer we need you to be. You can train all you want, but your heart’s far too soft to do what’s required of you. Think of your falcon: you destroyed its chance at being something truly great, truly powerful, just like you have destroyed your chance at the same. Your weakness will only ever put yourself and others in danger.”

The child was sent away to allow the adult, likely Valentine in disguise if Magnus’ suspicions were true, to think about what steps were required next. He had barely taken a dozen steps before the entire image lit into a ball of flames. Magnus would have thought the demon was simply being more dramatic than usual, save for the faint echo of a child calling for his father and trying to run into instead of away from the danger as the scene finally faded.

Jace looked away, eyes wet with unshed tears, and Magnus only wished he was surprised when he heard Alexander demand, “Me next.”

He neither needed nor wanted to see how Maryse and Robert treated their eldest son. He knew they were strict and he knew that was even by Shadowhunter standards. Instead, he was mildly taken aback to find a child that was undoubtedly the younger version of the man he loved, dark tousled hair falling into his eyes as he peeked around a corner. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Alec, you shouldn’t be here,” Robert chided.

“If he’s supposed to be my new brother, then I should know,” the boy stubbornly declared.

A woman that was clearly Maryse beckoned him close and wrapped an arm around him. “Jace will be fine. He was injured, just like you have been, but is healing. He needs to sleep now though.”

“If he needs to sleep, then why is he talking? He sounds unhappy, like he’s still hurt,” the young Alec pointed out. He gestured to a bed where a Jace similar in age to the last vision lay.

“He is dreaming and, unfortunately, not all dreams are pleasant,” Maryse told him.

“Like when Izzy dreamt Bale’s puppy was actually a baby werewolf that ate her whip and favorite shoes?” he asked.

“Kind of,” Maryse agreed with the slightest hint of amusement in her eyes. 

“Then I know how to fix it,” the child proudly declared. He climbed right up beside the sleeping boy and, careful of his injuries, laid down beside him and took his hand in his own. “You’re going to be okay. You’ve got us to make sure of that. Also, I know where they keep the good ice cream.”

That image faded just as the two parabatai-to-be started to drift off and Magnus simply rolled with it when Isabelle pushed forth her own memory with nary a word.

There was a young girl of maybe thirteen sitting on a set of stone steps, swiping angrily at her eyes. Her knuckles were bruised and her knee visibly skinned through the tear in the jeans she wore. Other than that, she seemed unscathed, but incredibly upset and doing a poor job at hiding it.

“Forget him,” a voice told her. 

She looked up to find a young teen with floppy blond hair that didn’t quite want to stay out of his eyes no matter how hard he shoved it back. “Easy for you to say,” she said bitterly. “He didn’t pull this crap with you in front of the whole class. They’re all going to laugh at me. Everybody’s going to remember and they will never let me live it down.”

The boy crouched beside her and tucked a wayward strand of her own less than behaving hair behind her ear. “Iz, you took him down. Whatever he said, whatever he did? You knocked him on his ass and that was before you wrestled him into damn near running away. They’re going to remember that over some stupid stunt he pulled with your bra.”

“I’m going to remember,” she muttered, but dared to look up at him. “At least tell me he’s got a black eye?” she sniffed.

“Black eye, purple jaw, and was holding his hand funny, you know, when he wasn’t holding his balls,” the young Jace confirmed proudly. Then, with a smirk reminiscent of the elder version of himself, he added, “And he’s going to have a lot more than that by the end of the week. I just volunteered to be his sparring partner, you know, when Alec is done with him. He’s going to get really good at drawing an iratze soon.”

That earned him a smile, and the scene faded like the one before it.

“I’ll go,” Clary offered next. She closed her eyes and he did not doubt that she chose the memory with the same precise care that she used when creating her art.

She might not share the depth of past with Jace that the Lightwoods did, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t just as perceptive and protective. Of all the memories she could have offered, including her chaotic reintroduction to the Shadow World, she chose one Magnus neither suspected nor would have assumed she would use. Then again, if either of them had ever actually told him about the incident, maybe he would have.

It was just the two of them, no Alexander nor Isabelle in sight. They were in a clearing of what appeared to be woods of some kind, and were utterly and completely surrounded, completely outnumbered. It wasn’t demons though, but fellow Shadowhunters that held weapons on them. They were both bound with multiple hunters holding Jace in place while Clary was led to a stump and forced to kneel, an axe held over her head while some older man droned on about her father not approving, a red circle evident on his neck.

At the edge of the scene, where Jace now knelt, there was a flash of gold of all things, his very eyes seeming to glow in the darkness. Suddenly, his chains were snapped and he was free and fighting, making sure she was granted the same reprieve. Even outnumbered as they were, they took down each and every one of the enemy as soon as they had weapons in their hands. 

When it was over, after verifying each were safe and as they headed out to complete their mission, Jace commented, “Nice work back there.”

“Thanks, I had a good teacher,” Clary smiled. She easily avoided a tree root before she added, “A teacher who I need to thank for saving my life... again.”

Jace stopped at that and looked as serious as he ever had when he said, “I promised you that I would do anything in my power to keep you safe. I’m not about to go back on that now.”

The scene faded and Magnus assumed, based on two matching glares, that he was not the only one who had been kept in the dark regarding that moment. Clearly a discussion was needed, but now was not the time. 

It was his turn as the last one remaining, but he couldn’t help the commentary of, “Well, I was just going to give him the time Blondie here split his pants in the middle of a fight, but that seems counter to what you lot are trying to prove.” 

“I don’t know, it was pretty traumatic for me,” Isabelle offered, lightening the mood.

Magnus smirked, and found the action mirrored on the faces of more than a single participant. He pushed forth his own memory and, knowing how it would play out, watched the others’ reactions as much as the images themselves.

He looked much like he did now, though the clothing he wore was clearly from decades prior should anyone be paying attention. Well, what remained of it given how torn it filthy is was. He was being bandied back and forth with shoves and kicks, barely keeping conscious enough to remain standing and eventually he found himself in a heap on the ground. When it all suddenly ceased and the only thing he could see before him was a seraph blade, he managed a fairly weak, “Here to end it then?”

“No,” a man insisted. His features were familiar now, yet not. A second blade joined the first, and Magnus traced the line of it up to a woman, clearly a Shadowhunter like her partner and clearly nearly six months pregnant. “We’re better than this. You broke no laws save for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. We... we need to be better than this,” the man insisted with a meaningful glance towards the bump of the woman’s stomach.

He must of held some sway as the others backed off nearly immediately and seemed to fade to the very shadows. The man withdrew his weapon and offered a hand to help Magnus to his feet instead. “I thank you,” Magnus offered, still not fully trusting the situation. Ever courteous though, he made a rough welcoming gesture and introduced himself as, “Magnus Bane, at your service.”

“I think you might need ours more than we need yours right now,” the man commented. Remembering himself, he returned the greeting with, “Stephen Herondale, and this is my wife Celine.”

“You should go before they change their minds,” Celine offered. “Did you need help?”

Magnus shook his head knowing how close he was to a safe house, not that he was going to share that knowledge with anyone. “I can manage on my own,” he insisted. “I do offer you my thanks, and my hope that your child shares your wisdom.”

Stephen scoffed. “Any child of ours is more likely to make rash decisions and regret them later, but thanks anyway.”

The image faded like the others, and was replaced with an incredibly detailed diagram of everything they needed to succeed in their next mission. The demon grunted again before he spun and swirled back to the abyss he had been summoned from. Services rendered. Services paid.

Magnus nodded and they released their hands as he scuffed out the very edge of the elaborate sigil he had drawn, finally breaking the circle and the spell. After an incredibly awkward brief moment of silence, he received overlapping requests for a translation of its final words followed by a near whisper of, “We’re those really my parents?”

He decided he wasn’t going to make him wait any longer than it took to summon a drink so, after a snap of his fingers brought him something shiny and strong, he replied, “Yes, and they really did step in and likely saved my life. As for the demon, he says you don’t need his therapy services as you have the others already. Well, roughly said that, but he’s not wrong.”

“You are more than what Valentine tried to make you,” Clary insisted as she approached.

“You are so much more than he could have ever dreamed of,” Isabelle agreed.

The final member of the night’s group stepped forward and smacked him on the arm before he added, “What, you thought I’d choose some loser for my parabatai?”

“If any of you try to hug me right now, I might have to punch you,” Jace warned, eyes still shining with both wetness and amusement.

Magnus simply sipped his drink while they took that risk anyway.


End file.
